…and after that, out of all whooping!

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One of the things we did during our cozy, snowbound weekend was to watch Milos Forman’s film Amadeus. It cracked me up to see my children wince every time Tom Hulce broke out his maniacal giggle. I remember doing the exact same thing the first time I watched it.

After three blissfully lazy days at home, I was sad to have to report to work on Monday. My children had known since the day before that they wouldn’t have to go to school. They didn’t have to go today either, and we’ve already gotten the call announcing that there’s no school tomorrow. It’s quite possible that they may never have to go back ever again.

Yesterday morning, as I put on my winter gear to battle the elements, I began delivering my marching orders to the children, “So, since you’re going to be home all day long with nothing else to do…”

“NO, Mom!,” my impertinent little daughter interrupted me, “We’re not going to be able to find a cure for cancer, or broker a peace treaty, or solve the problem of world hunger by the time you get home!”

“Ummm, no. That’s actually not what I was going to say at all!”

“Oh!” my daughter said sheepishly and with understandable surprise, since that is the speech I usually give on these occasions.

“As you now know, Mozart composed his first symphony at the age of four and…what was it? His first full length opera by the age of 12? How old are you now? Ten? Waaaay older than Mozart when he wrote that first symphony. So surely, it’s perfectly reasonable to expect that with a whole day free to work on it, you and your brothers together could come up with some sort of composition. It doesn’t even have to be as taxing as a symphony. How about you come up with, say… a concerto for a string quartet, by the time I get back from work?”

I called later that afternoon to have my husband tell the children how much I was looking forward to hearing their composition that evening.

They rushed to meet me at the door when I arrived home.

“We wrote the concerto, but not for strings! We’d love to play it for you, but unfortunately, we wrote it for an instrument we don’t have…It’s for the didgeridoo.”

With a son in high school and another in middle school, we’ve been flirting with the idea of letting all three kids stay at home alone without adult supervision. I know it might strike some as ridiculous that this would even be an issue at this point. As an eleven year old still in elementary school, I was babysitting infants. As a “safety patrol” armed with nothing but a frayed vinyl orange belt and a cheap badge slung over my scrawny little shoulder, I was in charge of a whole bus stop full of kids far from the watchful eyes of any of our parents. But that was a very different era. These days in our peaceful little neighborhood nestled in the bucolic countryside, I sometimes see parents waiting at the bus stop with their high school-age kids.

“The Voyage of Life: Youth,” Thomas Cole, 1840.

The last time we asked the boys if they would feel comfortable staying home alone and in charge of their little sister, they looked at us wide-eyed with fear and vigorously shook their heads. Could it have been the fact that we began the discussion with exhortations to hide if they heard anyone at the door, to NOT answer the phone unless they recognized our number, and to call 911 IMMEDIATELY if their sister so much as coughed a little? Could it have been the scenarios we role-played in which evil sickos disguised as sweet old grannies would plead with them to open the door, because their car had broken down and they were hurt and needed to come in to use our phone and by the way they had a cute little puppy and sacks full of candy too? Possibly.

“The Voyage of Life: Manhood,” Thomas Cole, 1840.

We were very close to finally taking the plunge last week when the fairly modest snow we got here in Charlottesville shut down the school system for an entire week. Every day last week I would get a text from the county announcing that school would be closed for another day. Like clockwork, the next text I would receive shortly thereafter would be a one word expletive in response from my husband, who would be losing yet another day of work to stay home with the kids. Towards the end of the week, his one word text bombs would literally make me LOL.

We just couldn’t quite bring ourselves to leave our nine year old daughter home alone last week, even in the care of her older brothers, and despite the fact that my son has openly acknowledged her superior level of maturity. And so my husband and I traded our daughter back and forth throughout the entire week, while we fulfilled our various work obligations. This kind of shuffling has been going on for years. Once when my husband didn’t get back home in time to take over parenting duties, I was forced to bring my infant to a class I was teaching. I’ll never forget having to change my son’s diaper in the middle of my lecture on Russian literature. I’m sure the students will never forget it either. More recently, the kids have had to spend many a snow day or sick day sitting in on their dad’s political theory lectures. I’ll be so bitterly disappointed if after all this, they don’t have enough credits to earn their B.A.s by the time they get their high school diplomas.

It snowed again late last night and early this morning. School was cancelled for all three kids, but alas NOT for the parents. This morning we debated back and forth about how to handle this latest development. Finally, we decided that it was at last time to cross the Rubicon. We would leave all three kids at home.

A little while after getting to my office, I called home to check up on them.

“Mommy?” my daughter asked as she picked up the phone.

“Yes, it’s me!” I answered, “Oh YAY! You haven’t burned down the house yet!”

“MOMMY!” she replied. Did you know it’s possible to actually hear the sound of rolling eyeballs?

“No. So, N and T both made me dishes and I’m deciding which one tastes the best.”

“What are the dishes?”

“T made me macaroni & cheese and N made me some delicious noodles.”

I guess I know who won the showdown. I have to laugh as I imagine the boys microwaving the ready-made macaroni & cheese and pouring boiling water over the instant noodles and then presenting their “dishes” to their sister with a flourish. I should probably start planning my outfit for the James Beard Award Ceremony.

I also have to laugh as I envision my daughter dispensing judgement upon her loyal subjects. It reminded me of the time a few years ago when I took the kids swimming. Eventually, I noticed that the boys were not frolicking and splashing about as one might expect two carefree kids on vacation to be doing. Instead, they were assiduously taking turns giving their little sister rides on their backs and then anxiously asking her to rate their performance. It turned out that my daughter had ruthlessly pitted her brothers against each other in a “Best Brother Contest.”

“Well…I’d say you’ve got a 7.5 so far. N gave me a smoother ride, so he gets an 8.2, but maybe you could improve your score by giving me a longer ride.”

On her way to total world domination.

Keep up the good work.

Not bad, not bad.

Subjugation with a smile.

More bitter disappointment is coming my way if that girl doesn’t become Ruler of the Universe in my lifetime…

Like this:

On Monday we woke up to a winter wonderland. Work: CANCELLED! School: CANCELLED! It was a gift that literally fell from the sky!

We began Monday morning with a conference.

“What we have here is an amazing opportunity to get a lot of things accomplished. We’re certainly not going to waste it by lazing about all day in our pjs, right? Right! So! Let’s brainstorm about what global problems or crises you’ll tackle today. I’d like your action plan by noon and the solution to the problem to be implemented by the end of the business day. T2! What problem will you be addressing?”

“Ummm…cancer?”

“Excellent! T1?”

“I’ll solve the problem of world hunger and deal with the crisis in Ukraine.”